


Not So Perfect

by mylittlejaybird



Category: Original Work
Genre: Fallen Angel, M/M, Other, Teratophilia, mentions of attempted sexual assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-22
Updated: 2015-04-22
Packaged: 2018-03-25 07:05:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3801259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylittlejaybird/pseuds/mylittlejaybird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What do you get when you stick a nurse and a fallen angel in a room together? </p>
<p>Sexual tension, apparently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not So Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> Drabble of my snarky fallen angel character, Bakhiel and my nurse OC named Patrick Wright. Because having a character where I could make Mr. Right jokes was too good to pass up. And then he grew to have a heart and a personality, the dastard. 
> 
> Also, for those who wanna know what Bakhiel looks like: http://tinyurl.com/mzxh3hy (slight NSFW for groin tentacles being used as extra hands)

“You broke his arm.” The fallen angel’s permanently grinning face somehow looked even more smug than usual. Patrick sighed and closed the door behind him, walking further into the room to sit in the only chair. “What happened Bakhiel?”

Patrick was fairly certain the two smaller eyes at his temples were looking at him—the sclera, iris and pupil were all the darkest black, making it impossible to tell where they were focused—while the main pair were focused on the book in his lap. The tentacles that were anchored to his groin steadied the book while he flipped through the pages at an impressive speed.

When the silence stretched on, Patrick sighed and leaned back. “Did he hurt you?”

A pause between flipped pages. At least he was listening.

“Bakhiel, please, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what happened.”

An expression not unlike a sneer crossed the angel’s face. “Even if you believe me, those with power will do nothing. I’m already to be punished.”

He wasn’t wrong, and Patrick had to think for a moment before answering. “If I can do anything to help, you know I will.”

Bakhiel made a soft hissing noise, which Patrick had long learned was his version of a sigh, and closed his book, setting it aside and coiling his tentacles back around his waist. He lifted his head and met Patrick’s gaze with his own bright yellow eyes. “There’s nothing you can do. The perpetrator couldn’t keep his hands to himself, so I reprimanded him.”

“He assaulted you.” It wasn’t a question. It wouldn’t be the first time one of the staff got it in their heads to take advantage of the small angel.

His facial expression didn’t change, but his tone was threaded with amusement. “He tried.”

Patrick shook his head. “What else?”

The angel’s face managed to look remarkably expressionless despite the shape of his mouth giving him a permanent grin. It was no more real than that of a crocodile’s. “There  _is_  nothing else.”

“C'mon, we both know that’s not true.”

“Even if it weren’t, why should I share that information with  _you_ , Mr. Wright?” All four of his eyes narrowed, and his tentacles flexed around his waist.

“Patrick, please. And have I not earned your trust yet? After the incident from—”

“Yes, alright, you’ve made your point.” A growl crawled from between Bakhiel’s teeth, the hairs on Patrick’s arms standing at attention at the sound. He ignored the warning signs.

“So talk to me.”

There was another stretch of silence, but the way Bakhiel’s hands—all three of them—wrung against each other spoke of his anxiety. “He insulted me.” He admitted finally.

“What did he say?”

“That I was no more an angel than he was the Queen of England.” His tongue flashed out to lick across the top row of his teeth, and he looked down. “…Not that he was wrong.”

Patrick winced. “Hey, no. We’ve been over this.”

Bakhiel rolled his eyes, a bad habit he had picked up from the humans he dealt with every day. “He also attempted to insult my gender, but seeing as how we are a genderless race, that was almost amusing.”

Patrick offered a wry smile. “I bet.”

Two pairs of eyes narrowed at him. “Patty.”

A frown settled onto his features. “Leave my issues out of this.”

The angel slipped off the table and padded over to him on hands that were where his feet would’ve been had he been human. Patrick looked up at the shorter being and arched a brow, not flinching when Bakhiel stroked his cheek, though it took a great show of will.

“Poor pretty Patty.” The angel murmured, running a clawed thumb over his bottom lip.

He turned his head away. “Enough Bakhiel.”

“You know, I wouldn’t mind allowing  _you_  to touch me, Patrick.” He unwrapped one tentacle from around his waist and brushed it over Patrick’s hand. The man jerked it away and stood, knocking over the metal chair with a loud clatter and staring down at the smaller angel. Bakhiel looped his tentacle through Patrick’s belt and yanked him closer, much stronger than he looked. “I consent.”

“I  _don’t_. Let me go Bakhiel.”

A drawn out hiss escaped Bakhiel but he retracted his tentacle. He stood in front of him, fingers drumming on the floor impatiently. “Why do you deny yourself? You are already a pariah in your society due to your choice in partners. What difference would I make?”

“I’m here to help you, not take advantage of you.” His voice was firm, but his eyes were showing a little too much white around the edges.

“Even when I offer myself freely?” The angel cocked his head, another habit he’d picked up from his time around humans.

“You’re in no state to offer consent Bakhiel.”

There was a pout in Bakhiel’s voice. “Why couldn’t you be less of a goody-two-shoes Mr. Wright?”

“Someone in this accursed building has to have morals.”

A bubbling rasp emitted from Bakhiel’s throat, the sound meant to convey amusement but serving only to cause his hair to stand on end again. Bakhiel reached out with one hand-foot and picked up the chair, setting it upright again. “There is truth in that.” He flattened the hand on the end of his arm against Patrick’s chest and leaned closer, voice dropping. “But we both know that’s not why.”

“The answer is still no, Bakhiel. I don’t have to justify it.”

The angel gave him a knowing look and finally—finally—backed off. “You should consider it Mr. Wright. I think we could have ourselves a  _very_  good time.”

Patrick shook his head, smile wry. “You forget, I’ve seen what you consider a good time. It doesn’t usually end well for the other parties involved.”

“Mmm, that’s a matter of opinion.”

He allowed the subject to drop. “So you are not in need of my services?”

Bakhiel shot him a predatory look and licked across his top teeth with his long tongue. “None that you are willing to give.”

Well, he couldn’t argue with that. “Try not to seriously injure anyone else when humiliating them.”

“I need to make examples Mr. Wright. But then you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?”

“Stay out of my head Bakhiel.”

The angel cocked his head. “Stop having such interesting thoughts.”

He scowled. “No. Stay out. You have no right to eavesdrop.”

Another growl that had his body instantly in flight mode, but Bakhiel stayed where he was, fingers flexing against the cement floor. “Then go, Mr. Wright. Before I decide my own rights.”

Knowing he was going to get no more civility from the fallen angel, Patrick sighed and walked toward the door. “If it happens again, punch them in the balls.”

That liquid rasping laugh that sounded like someone coughing up phlegm followed him out into the hall. He stood with his back against the door for a moment, before he took a deep breath and walked toward the next waiting room, and his next inhuman patient.

It was going to be a long day.


End file.
